


Look at this photograph

by Nathamuel



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Alternate Universe - Photographer, Fluff and Angst, Forced Prostitution, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Underage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 18:17:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1357240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nathamuel/pseuds/Nathamuel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The studio was already prepared and everyone was ready for the photo shoot to begin when Haymitch stumbled in, half an hour late and half drunk, which was a shame. He'd been aiming for fully drunk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Look at this photograph

The studio was already prepared and everyone was ready for the photo shoot to begin when Haymitch stumbled in, half an hour too late (which was still somewhat early when you asked him). He was half drunk, which was a shame. He'd been aiming for fully drunk but must have missed by a few pints. 

"Where have you been?" Effie hissed at him, schedule clutched in her colorfully nailed hands and eyes flashing angrily. In the next instant she smiled brightly at the model already waiting for them on set. Every time he saw it, it was an amazing thing to watch, Haymitch thought, how fast Effie could change her behavior depending on who she was speaking to at the moment.

"Leave me alone, Effie." Haymitch grumbled while he took in the young man Panem Designs had sent him. Usually he would tell them to go to hell, glad to be away from that company after all these years, but occasionally he wanted to have a look at their newest employers. He wanted to see how they were treated. 

This model was in his early twenties, with bronze colored hair and a physique to die for, at least in the company's opinion who only hired the most beautiful people, just to trap them in awful contracts later. Haymitch itched for a drink. Better not to remember his time in the company. 

"Can we begin?" Effie chirped and Haymitch let her push the camera into his hand. The model came forward and they shook hands. His grip was strong but not overly so, more warm and encouraging instead of overpowering. 

"I'm Finnick Odair, Mr. Abernathy. It is an honor to work for you." Ah, Finnick Odair. Haymitch had heard of him already. A young man who seemed to have slept with every photographer and model in existence from what he'd heard. On top of that he was the youngest model ever, to start working for Panem Designs, at what, 13 or 14 years old? That had to have been five years ago.  
Something nagged at Haymitch but he couldn't place a finger on it. 

"Pleasure’s is mine." Haymitch replied gruffly, not even bothering to force a friendly expression onto his face, but Finnick didn't seem insulted by it. If at all, it only seemed to make him grin wider.  
Haymitch needed a drink if this model was one of the overly cheerful ones. He hated the cheerful ones. They gave him a headache.

With a gesture, he directed Finnick to his place to begin his shooting. 

Hopefully, in the future, he wouldn't have to photograph any models of Panem Designs, or at least he could choose his own settings and clothes since the company liked to let their models wear… nothing much. The "pants" that Finnick was to present pretty much consisted only of a flimsy golden loincloth and a net. It left nothing to the imagination. 

Out of the corner of his eye Haymitch could see his team staring, some of them so distracted they had stopped with what they were doing. They were drinking in the sight of the model. The way the light played over his body and made him look like a carved marble sculpture. The distracting way Finnick licked over his lips while he looked at Haymitch, into the camera, from under his lashes. In his mind Haymitch had no doubt that Finnick knew what kind of effect he had on people. Every model of Panem Designs knew their way around a crowd. Haymitch would have berated his team if he hadn't been affected as well. The way his pants tightened made him feel sick, cock pushing against the fabric of his pants, but still he took photo after photo, bellowing at his team to get back to work.

He called for a pause when his hands started to tremble and bile rose in his throat; for this, he was much too sober.

"Why are we stopping?" Effie complained, furiously scribbling away on her schedule and glaring at Haymitch from under her bright pink hair, like he was personally responsible for delaying every single of the appointments she had made for him. On second thought, that sounded about right.

"I need coffee. I was up all night." Haymitch said through his teeth, omitting the little detail that he'd been up drinking, and stared her down when she looked like she was going to complain again.

From the set Finnick sauntered towards him, a distracting sway to his hips that should have looked ridiculous on a man, but didn’t on him, while Haymitch accepted a cup from the caterers. One thing he had to admit grudgingly was that the shootings done by Panem Designs were quite luxurious. 

Finnick brushed up against him while he reached for a couple of sugar cubes, eating them suggestively when Haymitch looked to the side and at him. Haymitch stared, watching the little white cubes disappear between rosy lips, seeing a pink tongue come out to lick sugary fingers clean, and then skipping his gaze a little higher. There was something hidden in those eyes, a certain detached quality in his eyes when he leaned in close enough Haymitch could smell his cologne, when their hands brushed together. Haymitch knew that look from models like Johanna Mason who had dropped out of the business three years ago but unlike the cheerfulness that was Finnick's shield, she had anger.

For a while longer, Haymitch looked at Finnick thoughtfully, who grinned and finally asked: "Like what you see?" 

Damn, he was too fucking old to save anyone, even himself, and not this young, too-handsome-for-his-own-good man.

"Come to my house tomorrow. I want to talk to you." Haymitch said while pouring himself another cup of coffee and Finnick's grin widened, his blue eyes twinkling.

"Of course." he purred.

***

Haymitch noticed his mistake when Finnick stood before his door with too much of his shirt unbuttoned to be still called decent and a flirty look on his face.  
Maybe he'd been too drunk the day before after all and for a moment Haymitch entertained the thought of just sending him away again, to just save himself the trouble for once. 

He invited him inside anyway.

Dread tugged at his conscience and it soon became apparent why, when, as soon as the door was closed, Finnick pushed up against him, letting his hands settle on Haymitch's waist. Haymitch moved back until his back hit the wall and Finnick's mouth pressed against his insistently. 

With Finnick's soft lips so yielding under his own, Haymitch faltered, just a little. He wanted to kiss the model back. It had been too long since he had allowed himself close to another person, but the feeling of wrongness followed on the heel of the desire and abruptly his, at times skewed, moral compass reset itself. 

"Who forced himself on you first, when you started?" Haymitch whispered into the space between their mouths, forgoing any nicer inquiries in favor of cutting to the point, his hand on Finnick's chest to hold them apart. Sometimes it was better to catch people unawares and not let them get suspicious with seemingly innocent questions. 

Finnick's hands rested on the wall on either side of Haymitch, caging him in and he hated the way it made his body feel too small, made him feel trapped. There was only a slight flinch from Finnick at the question, a moment's hesitation before he grinned cockily, showing his teeth. 

"A strange question to ask." he commented and made to lean in again.

"Mine was Mr. Snow himself when I was 16, when I first started to work for Panem Designs as a model." Haymitch said bitterly, pushing at Finnick before their mouths could connect, and felt Finnick freeze, but he wasn't looking at him. His eyes were fixed on a point over Finnick's shoulder as he forced the words out. 

"He said it was normal, natural, in that business and told me some references to the culture between boys and adults in ancient Greece. He told me to make the photographers happy no matter what and… I-I believed him." 

"Why are you telling me that?" Finnick whispered. His body was stiff against Haymitch, a slight tremble in his muscles, like he wanted to bolt. 

"It's ok." Haymitch said without answering. Sweat was cooling on his body. 

"It's ok." he repeated, making his voice soft. "You can leave if you want. I won’t force you to stay here."

He looked at Finnick when the young model pulled back, face troubled and refusing to meet Haymitch's eyes.

"It's ok." Haymitch said, feeling tense, and flinched when Finnick laughed hollowly, covering his face with his hands.

"No, it really isn't." he said. When he left a minute later, it looked a lot like he was fleeing, trying not to run. Haymitch couldn't blame him. He didn't watch him climb into his car. He went into his kitchen, to his stash under the kitchen sink and poured himself a glass of whisky, and another, and another, until his thoughts were fuzzy and he didn't think anything at all anymore.

***

The next day Haymitch woke up with a hangover that threatened to split his skull in two; too much alcohol and too little to eat the night before. That was the kind of effect his own past had on him. 

He dragged himself to work, repeating the mantra of 'only two more days, then you're free again' to himself so he wouldn’t turn around again. On set, Finnick greeted himself with the same cheerfulness as the day before, but he was less quick to meet Haymitch's eyes.

Today they were supposed to start the second stage of the shoot: Jewelry, and what extravagant jewelry it was. Haymitch shook his head in disbelief. It wasn't like he didn't know what kind of stuff Panem Designs would send to him. The most flimsy and over the top clothes because they knew he hated them. They just wanted to take advantage of the little trap in their contracts that allowed them to never let any employees go for good. 

When Finnick put on the jewelry that he was to present half naked again, Haymitch turned away. He told himself it was because he wanted to give him some privacy but even he knew that it was a lie. Finnick had an effect on him… No time to think about that. His plan for the day, one of the only reasons why he even dragged himself out of bed in the first place, was to draw Finnick out of his hiding. He already had some ideas. 

Heaps upon heaps of necklaces and bracelets hung from around Finnick’s neck and gleamed on his wrists and ankles when Haymitch deemed it safe to look again. Clipped to his ears were earrings and even on his head there were golden chains laid like snakes. And every single detail was to be captured up close.

Finnick stood tall and tense in the middle of the designer’s tent, the make-up artists fawning around him, applying their last touches and Haymitch directed him to lie back on a comforter and climbed up so he was straddling the model, getting close-ups of the jewels around his neck. From as close as he was, Haymitch could see him swallow nervously and while he did have cameras with a decent zoom, he had always thought that the end product was better without it, with getting as close as possible with a macro feature. A sadistic part of him wanted to push Finnick. With any other model he would have tried harder to make them comfortable. 

Haymitch never claimed to be a nice man and it seemed to have an effect on Finnick. His eyes darted away when Haymitch leaned in close enough that his breath washed over Finnick's collarbone. When he took a photograph of the jewels around his neck, that complimented his eyes and which almost seemed to glow against the model's skin, he could feel Finnick hold his breath. 

There was a slight trembling in Finnick's shoulders and his hands when Haymitch told Finnick to steady him while he worked. Haymitch felt guilty for it but he didn't have much time to build a friendship with Finnick. He wasn't particularly skilled in that anymore anyway and as soon as Finnick had been returned to Panem Designs Haymitch wouldn't see him again. 

The longer the shoot lasted the tenser Finnick became, until he called for a stop, voice quivering almost unnoticeably. 

Haymitch retreated from Finnick's tense body and ignored Effie's chattering. He could feel Finnick sneaking glances at him when Haymitch moved back, gave him space and went to fetch himself coffee.

"You want one as well?" he carefully asked him and Finnick took care not to let their hands touch when he took the cup from him. Haymitch pretended not to notice. 

"Can I come to your house again?" Finnick asked and if Haymitch hadn't been looking for it he almost wouldn't have noticed the slight tremble of his voice. He had to give it to the kid. He was good at masking his feelings when there were eyes on him. 

***

"I don't know what I'm doing here." Finnick greeted him when Haymitch opened the door on his knock a few hours later. He had to admit that he had drunk a few glasses of something alcoholic to calm his own nerves but at least his hands were steady. 

"I'm -" Finnick stopped and made a nervous gesture, drawing both of his hands through his hair while Haymitch stepped aside to let him in. The younger man's eyes were wide, scared. Haymitch felt like an asshole. 

"I don't -" Finnick started again when he was standing in Haymitch's kitchen with his feet bare and stepping from one foot on the other, all nervous energy. Haymitch waited for him to settle his thoughts, keeping his hands busy with brewing coffee. 

"I don't know what I want here. I don't, I don't want to talk and I -" here Finnick stopped again. His face was panicked. 

"We don't have to talk." Haymitch said, looking at him. "Do you want to see my geese?"

Finnick paled. "Is that an innuendo? Like, do you want to show me your sex toys?"

"I don't have sex toys." Haymitch lied. "I mean the animals."

Haymitch lead him outside and was rewarded with a laugh when he showed Finnick to the little fenced in portion of his garden where the birds lived. 

"You really have geese." Finnick said with wonder in his voice. "I would have taken you more for a goat person." Haymitch snorted. 

"This one is Effie." Haymitch said, pointing to a particular loud example.

"You don't like her." Finnick commented, glancing at him from the corner of his eye. 

Haymitch hummed non-committed. It wasn't that he hated her but "She talks too much." 

Finnick laughed and Haymitch didn't fight the way the corners of his mouth lifted slightly in answer. The young man had a nice laugh. 

***

Haymitch was surprised when Finnick visited him again after their shoot was over. 

"What are you doing here?" he asked after he'd invited Finnick inside, not letting his surprise show, but he wasn’t sure that he succeeded. It was early in the morning. 

"I-" Finnick said. "I thought we eat something together before I'm off to another set." He held up a bag with breakfast and Haymitch's stomach growled. 

Haymitch's clothes were wrinkled, he had just gotten up from the kitchen table where he had fallen asleep but he let Finnick into his kitchen anyway. Slightly self-consciously gathering up the empty bottles and throwing them in the trash, aware of Finnick's gaze on him but he didn't look at him. He didn't want to know what that gaze would tell him. 

"May I?" Finnick asked behind him and Haymitch turned his head. The model was pointing to his cupboards and after Haymitch's nod he started to pull cutlery and plates from it which he set on the now empty table while Haymitch looked through his fridge for anything edible. It had been a while since he had last bought food. Some things had started to put on mold. 

Then they sat down and for a while they ate in silence.

"How are your geese?" Finnick asked awkwardly. He was probably starting to regret coming to Haymitch

"They're fine. It's a good thing that they're self-sufficient." Haymitch answered and for a moment they stared at each other until Finnick began to laugh and Haymitch smirked. 

"Usually I'm more charming than that." Finnick said. 

"I'm not." Haymitch replied which made Finnick grin widen.

"True." the model said.

"What are you shooting?" Haymitch asked and went back to his eating.

"Something in some kind of arena. I'm playing a gladiator so I probably won't be dressed much." Finnick said wryly and Haymitch nodded. 

"They like to do that. In my time as model I didn't get to wear much, either. One time a client of Panem Design asked of me to only wear a leaf over my private parts."

"I would have paid to see that." Finnick chuckled.

Suddenly the atmosphere relaxed and just like that they exchanged their craziest memories of their time as models, falling into the conversation like old friends instead of strangers. 

***

The next weeks passed with too much work, too much to drink and too little sleep. Against all odds Finnick kept visiting him at home, he visited him on set when his own schedule allowed it and Haymitch… liked it. He wouldn’t have thought so but he enjoyed the young man’s company. They never talked about any sensitive memories again, slinking around the subjects that hurt them. Instead they shared stories about their more ridiculous time at Panem Designs. 

They watched movies at Haymitch’s home, they played with the geese and every time their fingers touched there was a spark that they both ignored, but occasionally Haymitch couldn’t help but let his gaze linger. He made photographs of Finnick, asking him to model for him. Those were quite moments. Then Finnick asked him to teach him the ways with a camera and Haymitch did.

After a while it all blurred together, a wall of moments with Finnick, Finnick, Finnick, like photographs that were burned in Haymitch’s mind. Finnick laughing, Finnick lying relaxed on his couch, focused on the TV, Finnick with a camera on his hand, grinning impishly when he showed him photos that he’d made of Haymitch when he’d been unaware.

Everywhere he turned there was the young model and half a year later Haymitch woke up with the realization that they had become friends. 

Worse! 

He was falling for him. He was in love with that damn man. Haymitch laid in his bed and gasped for breath. Bottles cluttered the table beside his bed which Finnick would probably throw away on his next visit. 

Haymitch grabbed his whisky. 

It should have been obvious with how much Finnick visited him, with how much they talked about everything and nothing. In the way that Finnick took care of him when he was too drunk to function. 

Haymitch entertained the thought of calling Finnick and telling him to stay home, that he didn’t want to see him (which was a lie, a little voice in the back of his head told him). He entertained the thought until Finnick stood in front of his house that night, drunk out of his mind. 

For a long moment Haymitch stared at him in silence. Finnick's clothes were in disarray and a black eye was in the process of blooming on his face. 

"I did it!" he shouted and threw up his arms in a "hurray"-gesture which would have planted him on his ass if Haymitch hadn't darted forward and grabbed him around the waist. Finnick reeked of alcohol and on some part of his journey to Haymitch's house he must have thrown up, because he smelled of that, too.

"What did you do?" Haymitch asked while steering Finnick inside, taking care not to let him bump into furniture on his way, leading him towards his bedroom to sleep it off.

"I told a photographer no, no he couldn't fuck me." Finnick laughed with the kind of carelessness reserved for the drunk and insane before he winced and touched the bruise on his face, leaning heavily on Haymitch who tried to suppress his rising anger. 

"He didn't like being told no." he mourned and held out his arms for Haymitch. 

Haymitch reluctantly moved into the embrace, letting out a startled shout when Finnick let himself fall backwards and pulled Haymitch on top of him in the process. Then he froze, hovering over Finnick, when Finnick began to mutter urgently into his ear. 

"It did start when I was 14. Mr. Crane, my then manager, told me that all models slept around and that it was normal and that it was the only way to get good offers. I was stupid enough to believe him, until he started to sell me out to others, to groups which I had to entertain and I was too scared of losing my work if I didn't do as they asked. So I did it." Finnick let out a sob and held onto him. Haymitch couldn't move.

"My father is ill and my siblings too young for work and my mother couldn't provide for all of us, so I began modeling. Everyone always told me how handsome and beautiful I was. Everyone told me I'd get fired if I didn't please the clients." Finnick was crying openly now and Haymitch felt utterly helpless. He stroked a hand through Finnick's hair, down his back and over his cheek, wiping away the tears.

"And then there was you. You forced me to talk, you gave me a safe place. Why did you do it?" Finnick cried. "Why did you make me fall in love with you?" Finnick whimpered. Haymitch was at a loss, his mind was blank while Finnick clutched at him and finally fell asleep.

***

The next morning Finnick sat at his kitchen table with a hot cup of tea in his hand and hair mused. His bruise was stark against his skin. Haymitch's heart ached. 

"I'm sorry I told you all that while drunk." Finnick mumbled, not meeting Haymitch's eyes until Haymitch moved to stand directly in front of him and laid a hand on his shoulder. 

"Do you want me to say anything in particular?" Haymitch said neutrally. He still felt at a loss. That wasn't what he had expected.

"No. Yes. No.” Finnick mumbled before he took a sip of his tea to calm himself. “I do want to be with you, though. So… an answer to that would be nice." Finnick said with serious eyes. Haymitch floundered and sat down opposite him to put a little space between them, looking at anything but Finnick and grit his teeth until Finnick spoke again. 

"You don't have to. I won't pressure you." he continued and he sounded so weary. Haymitch hated it. He preferred a Finnick who laughed.

"I do want you." he said carefully, meeting the younger man's eyes, saw the hope rise and fall with his next words. "But it's a bad idea. I-I'm not good for you. I'm not a good man. I drink and I have problems. There's much I haven't told you." he said and Finnick smiled. 

"That wasn't hard to miss." he answered and reached across the table for Haymitch's hand. He let him. 

"And you still want that? You're crazy." Haymitch said ruefully but he squeezed Finnick's hand.

"So are you going on a date with me?" Finnick asked carefully.

"You mean watch a movie and go to a restaurant or take out as usual"

"Yes, maybe with added kissing and cuddling and sex afterwards if we're both willing." Finnick said and he sounded uncharacteristically shy. 

"I'm not sure about the cuddling." Haymitch drawled and smiled when Finnick laughed, some of the tenseness going out of them both. 

He pulled him closer when Finnick stood up and came to his side and leaned in for a kiss.


End file.
